


There's Only One Word For That- Magic Darts!

by LittleMonsters



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, Darts, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMonsters/pseuds/LittleMonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summer and Merlin has been sent, reluctantly, to stay with his Uncle Gaius. Cue 'The Knights of the Round Table' darts team; can they and their charismatic, albeit slightly trying, captain Arthur Pendragon convince Merlin that Camelot isn't such a bad place?</p><p>(Title courtesy of the much missed voice of darts, Sid Waddell.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hoping this will develop into something longer- have a vague plan of where I want this to go but as I said it's vague! Nothing is set in stone, apart from it will be Merthur. Feel free to throw about ideas/suggestions, can't promise anything but I will try. Be warned I will be shoe horning Sid Waddell quotes in to the story!
> 
> Thanks in advance!

Rollin up the black apron Arthur deposited it by the old man's hands, “There, shift done. Now lets get to tonight’s main event.”

Gaius raised his head ever so slightly, “Before you do, go and grab my nephew from up there,” he motioned to the back section of the pub; although it was only up a few of steps most regulars seemed to think that constituted too much exercise, hence the fact the main area was buzzing where as the ‘snug’ was dead. Well apart from one shadow lurking in the distance.

The younger man sighed, “Why do I get the feeling this isn't as simple as it sounds?”

“Because nothing with our landlord ever is.” Pausing mid pint Gwen laughed to herself, her face lighting up, all soft and gentle.

Returning to absent-mindedly scanning the local paper the white haired man could be heard to mutter under his breath, “Sulking over something as simple as me adding his name to the team list, what is the youth of today coming to?” Before motioning to Arthur, “Go, go.”

Five steps felt like a different world, the lights dimmer and the ceiling height reduced, it took a while for Arthur’s eyes to adjust before the previous shadow took human form and there he was retreating into the furthest corner of the leather clad bench seats, all emo hair and spider limbs, looking to Arthur as though he wished he could be any where else other than here.

“Hell.”

He mouthed it, so faint Arthur was positive he had misheard.

“Hell.” A little louder, a little more confident.

 _Shit! Did he just read my mind?_ Arthur had a second of unadulterated panic, surely not, some gangly teenager could not do that; could they?

His doubt must have shown on his face.

“This place is worse than hell.” The boy sought to clarify.

Arthur lent against the banister for support and let out a sigh of relief. It had been a throw away comment. 

“Heaven knows why my Mum thought it’d be a good idea . Go and help your uncle Gaius Merlin, get out of this village for the summer Merlin, make some new friends Merlin. Well I was doing just fine on my own thank you very much.”

Clearly it didn't matter to the lad that Arthur hadn't made any attempt to engage him in conversation, oh no he was to keep going anyway.

“But would she listen? Would she as heck a week later my bags are packed and I'm shoved on a train to God knows where and end up, first night, stuck in a pub being press ganged into joining their darts team for what I can only assume is the foreseeable future.”

From his vantage point Arthur could literally see the fury build, yet instead of it being a worry he couldn't help but be endeared; with each breath this boy, Merlin, sprung into life, his gestures losing their constraints and becoming wild, uncoordinated. Yet a gust of wind would knock the fellow down; there was no real threat of violence.

“Darts I tell you. Do I look like a darts player?”

Arthur went to answer but never got the chance.

“No. And there’s good reason for that. I don’t play. Haven’t even picked up one of those arrow things in my twenty one years of existence…”

_OK, not a teenager, my mistake._

“ Wouldn't know one end of a dart from the back of a bus. Although I might have a better chance of hitting one of those than that board with all it stupid colour coded sections, I mean have you seen the size of them.” His hands took a break from their wafting to try and mime the concept of tiny, “I could do it, oh I could. IF I WAS STOOD RIGHT NEXT TO THE BLOODY THING.”

Half the pub paused mid conversation to see what all the fuss was about before deciding it wasn't worth their energy.

“And just to top it off I can’t drink a pint to save my life.”

Arthur laughed. Out loud. 

“Won’t be so funny when a big twenty stone,” Merlin lowered his voice, “mother fucker,” before returning to rant volume, “cops an eye full of my half and has me pegged as a Nancy boy.”

“Are you?” The words were out of Arthur’s mouth before he had time to think.

“No.” Too fast a reply, like it had been drilled into him from an early age. 

Arthur stared.

“Yes. But that’s besides the point. What was I saying?”

“Big mother fucker and all that.”

“Oh yes, so he catches on and tells his even bigger mate and bam what do you know for the rest of the night I endure a living nightmare. That’s if I make it out in one piece, which having met half this team is highly unlikely. I can see the headlines now, ‘Darts player impaled on oche by own side.’

Pondering how to play this Arthur ventured, “Highly unlikely, I don‘t think it‘s possible to be run through with an oche, besides they’re far to valuable to waste on your scrawny arse. How would the Neanderthals know where to stand at the next match?” 

“By the chalk outline of my body.” Deadpan delivery, even if the corners of his mouth wanted to betray him as indicated by their ever so slight twitch, “Answer me this, which twenty something in their right mind actually wants to play darts.?”

“Me.”

“Oh!”

“I was coming to let you know the mini bus will be here in five minutes.” Glancing at his watch Arthur corrected, “Is ready to go now. Your choice. Come or don’t, doesn't bother me.”

 _Much._

Because of course Gaius might appear to be a foolish old man who wouldn't harm a fly but looks could be deceiving, forty years in the pub industry had taught him well and Arthur knew better than to return empty handed. At least that was his story and he was sticking to it. Nothing to do with those fluttering eyelashes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin meets the Knights of the Round Table and discovers that bedtime stories might not be works of fiction after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is- the next instalment. More of an idea where this is going but as so often with writing I am happy to be carried along on the ride. Feel free to guide me- a subtle nudge, an elbow in the ribs, a picture or two? Anyway, enjoy.

“Never fear Gwaine is here!” The dishevelled man’s Irish lilt reverberated around the mini bus.

As the rest of the team clambered into the battered vehicle Arthur hung back, waiting for the newest recruit, still unsure as to whether he was going to put in an appearance. When the other guys were seated he admitted defeat, shrugged his shoulders and climbed aboard, seemingly his well documented charms didn’t work on everyone.

“Wait for me.”

Or maybe they did.

“Hurry up we haven’t got all day.” Without glancing back Arthur pushed back the door to allow the young man on and took his place in the nearest available seat.

“Where did you find this fawn Gaius?” Barked out a portly gentleman as Merlin ever so ungracefully stumbled in, all but flinging himself directly into Arthur’s lap. Head first. “All long limbs and no coordination!”

A roaring wave of laughter went up.

“Geoffrey, Knights let me introduce you to my nephew, Merlin.” Gaius flicked his hand haphazardly around as way of introduction.

From the drivers seat Gwaine stretched over, extending his hand, “Gwaine. Don’t worry mate you’ll fit right in, do what we do.”

“Which is?” Merlin by now upright and a decent distance from a certain blond haired man’s crotch shook the hand and prayed that the lack of light hid his blush.

“Let Arthur do all the hard work! He is the King after all.” 

Again the men howled.

A covert check confirmed Merlin’s worst fears, the last remaining seat was next to the stony faced Arthur. “Great.” He mumbled, “how many more times can I irritate him to night?” Louder he asked, “Do you mind?”, pointing to the space.

“Sure.” The face never changed.

The next few minutes were filled with inane chatter from the darts team; who had been up to what over the weekend; whose wife was chomping at the bit to get away whilst the footie season was out and their glory, or in the case of the man mountain currently occupying both passenger slots in the front their epic failure, at last weeks match.

“Cheer up Perc at least this week you won’t get beaten by a woman.” Laughed Geoffrey.

“Hey! I was distracted.” 

Taking his hands briefly from the steering wheel Gwaine demonstrated the distraction, “Twice!”

“Dirty tactics from a dirty team, that’s what I call it.” Despite the passage of time Percy was evidently finding it difficult to come to terms with his defeat. “That top she had on was hardly fitting of a darts player.” Folding his arms he sulked, loudly.

“Barely fitting indeed.” Piped up Gaius.

Aware of the awkward silence emanating from his companion Merlin tuned himself in to the other men’s chat, sure they were full of bravado and loud, and at times crude, but he felt himself starting to relax, there was nothing in what they said that was vicious or hate fuelled; ok they weren’t 100% politically correct but it was teasing, it was funny and who ever is Merlin thought privately.

“Just the darts then.”

“Sorry?”

Merlin unaware the man beside him had been listening was surprised to find his muttering gaining a response.

Arthur sighed, low, drawn out, as if exhausted by the conversation, “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Like he was going to explain to some chiselled, up his own arse, god, who he’d known for all of two minutes.

“Idiot.”

“Prat.”

Unease settled again between the pair. Arthur pointedly watching the scenery pass, if the short cut through the local industrial estate could be classed as scenery, and Merlin fiddling with the scarf wrapped tight around his neck. Back home it had seemed like a statement, ‘I’m here, I’m different, I really don’t care.’ But now, in the city, where every other man appeared to have one wrapped round his neck he just felt common.

Lost in unwanted thought Merlin didn’t register the tapping on his arm until it became increasingly persistent. And forceful.

“Alright.” He smiled at the man, all serious faced and deliberate, he couldn’t have been that much older than Merlin himself, yet held himself with certainty, seemingly assured of his position in the world, who he was, what he was destined to be. How Merlin envied him in that moment.

“Leon.” And as Gwaine had done he reached out to shake hands. But he held on. Eyes fixed. Glinting with a mixture of intrigue and mischief. Then after a pause raised his voice. “So _Merlin_. Intriguing name. Wouldn’t you say so Arthur?”

“Stop it.” Warning ringing out.

“I was merely pointing out that you don’t come across many _Merlin’s_.”

Next to him Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Especially not in Camelot.”

His ear pricking up from the drivers seat Gwaine asked, “If Merlin’s your first name what’s you last?”

“Oh good grief!” Arthur’s head thumped repeatedly against the window.

“Emry’s.” 

A grin spread across Leon’s face, “Could you repeat that, what with all the noise in here I couldn’t quite make it out.”

“Emry’s”

Leon shook is head. “Louder.”

Merlin upped his game, “EMRY’S”, he all but shrieked.

Quick as a flash the chatter evaporated.

Blood draining from his face Arthur appeared remarkably pale, the side of his head now resting on the glass. 

“Merlin Emry’s.” Giggling like a school girl Leon let go of Merlin’s now sweaty hand and reclined in his seat, satisfaction plastered over every inch.

Beside Merlin the greening god repeated those two words like a mantra, “Merlin Emry’s. Merlin Emry’s…”

“Am I missing something?” It felt important yet someone had ostensibly forgotten to let him in on the joke.

Nobody spoke.

Eventually it was Gwaine who piped up, “Who would have thought eh?” Eyes glued to the road he hesitated waiting for another voice to fill the stillness when it didn’t come he prompted, “Care to enlighten this young man of your full name **Arthur**.”

As the mini bus lurched round a tight corner Merlin found himself yet again in close proximity to Arthur and he swore the man had started to ramble about dragons. Scrunching his eyebrows Merlin began to wonder if they weren’t all stark raving mad and this was just a ploy by his mum to have him committed in a gentle, none threatening way; he wouldn’t put it past her.

And then came words he could understand.

“Pendragon. My name is Arthur Pendragon.” 

“As in?” 

“Yes.”

Somewhere in the background Merlin heard names called out, one after the other, moving around the vehicle, not all immediately familiar but in the recesses of his mind he began to awaken the legends from his childhood, the stories told as he drifted off and as his thoughts started to merge into one whole heap of bewilderment a voice called out, “catch!” and a weight fell on his knee.

_Le Morte d’Arthur_

“Oh!”

“Indeed.” King Arthur almost smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur may be many things but gracious in defeat would never be used on his epitaph, so being paired with Merlin in a darts game doesn't bode well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More friendly banter from our favourite Knights as a gentle way of introduction and finally we get to the star of the show- the arrows. So it time honoured tradition join me as we shout; "Let's play darts!"

_Three weeks. Three sodding weeks and the fool still can’t hit the bloody board._

Arthur was not a happy bunny. He’d sat through many torturous matches before but always as a spectator, not this time, tonight he was on the receiving end of what surely could only end in a massacre. And the worst part? There wasn’t a thing he could do about it; one man does not make a team, more precisely- a pair. 

Obviously Gaius had been suffering from some form of temporary insanity when he, in all his wisdom, decided to team Arthur with Merlin instead of his usual partner Tristan; what the policeman lacked in style he made up for in his dogged determination and relentless pursuit of victory. That was the type of person Arthur wanted on his side.

“Magic hands.” His childish imitation of Leon pleased him in a way that was unbefitting of an adult, “With a name like Merlin how can he not?” Arthur stared down at his drink wishing he had ordered something a bit stronger. “Yeah right, good one lads.”

A firm hand on his back forced him to look up.

“Well he looks about as happy as a penguin in a microwave!” 

Precariously balanced by the oche Merlin wobbled as he threw his first dart wide. His grimace deepening.

“Wonderful insight Gwaine.” Raising one hand to cover his face Arthur forced himself to peek through the gaps as Merlin’s second dart went flying. And missed. Again.

_Kill me now._

Seating himself next to Arthur the Irish man smiled, “Come, come he’s only had five matches, we can’t expect miracles, Camelot wasn’t build in a day and all that.” And slugged back his shot of finest whiskey.

“It’s Rome and for your information I don’t expect a miracle; it would be nice if he hit the target.” 

An audible groan emanated from The Knights as their team mate’s final arrow landed with just a hint of a thud on the floral carpet.

“See.” 

Studying the young lad as he traipsed back to the table Arthur momentarily forgot about his irritation, tonight he was working the ‘just got out of bed’ look he tended to favour; tousled dark hair, faded skinny jeans and an old t-shirt which hung from the slight frame Arthur imagined, way too often for his own liking, was underneath. He’d lost the usual scarf which Arthur thought was a shame, they kind of suited him.

And then Merlin was plunging at an alarming rate towards the table, his feet tangled up with one another, the impact inevitable until an arm swooped down from behind to steady him and keep him upright.

Arthur sat stationary, incredulous; how could one man be so bumbling?

_And who’s bright idea was it to invite him onto the darts team?_

Gwaine sat huddled over the drinks, a desperate attempted to save them from the calamity that was Merlin, “Cheers Perc.” he sighed once the immediate danger had passed.

Percy deposited Merlin safely onto a chair without further incident.

“Heavens above you’re like Bambi at the start of that movie.” Percy brow furrowed, “What’s it called?”

A collective cry of “Bambi!” came at once.

The man laughed at his own stupidity, “Oh yeah!”

“By heck you’ve got it Percy.” The Round Table’s landlord strolled over, “Lad’s meet my nephew…”

Gwaine gave a drum roll on the table,

“…Merlin ‘Bambi’ Emrys.”

The whole team snorted their approval whilst Merlin appeared to sink further down into his chair, whilst sporting a very fetching red glow.

Arthur almost felt sorry for him.

“Hey Bambi, going to watch how it should be done?” 

Just not enough to not use it.

As Arthur rose the atmosphere changed; the opposition eyed him nervously, surely the battle was lost already yet he approached the oche purposefully, fearless, and the players from The Glein Tavern huddled together, disquiet in their ranks. Arthur was planning something.

One.

Two.

Three.

Arrow after arrow sailed into the board.

“One hundred and eighty.” The marker chalked it down.

Taking his bow the blond turned to the enemy,

“Care to show us what you’ve got.” A casual wink thrown in for good measure before returning to his team.

“Psychological warfare, good one.” Gaius nodded in approval as Arthur retook his seat.

“Brilliant.” Was all the others could offer as they subconsciously lent forward to await the other teams response.

“Let’s wait to see if it works before we get too cocky.” Steadied Gaius.

From the corner of his eye Arthur noted even Merlin seemed curious, instead of the usual ‘bury myself into the darkest hole’ stance he was resting his forearms on the table, fingers entwined and twitching, body reaching upwards. Distracted Arthur barely registered when the opposing player shouted a range of expletives.

Twenty six were all his darts allowed.

Forty six should have been an easy check out. By rights the game should be over.

Arthur smirked to himself. Till he remembered. Merlin was up next.

“Come on Bambi.” One of the older men, Tom Leodegan, cried out, encouragement embedded in each word.

Merlin took a few deep breaths before standing, Gaius went to hand him his darts, which he’d unceremoniously dumped on the table after his last humiliating turn, but was halted before he got a chance.

“Wait.” Arthur reached out behind to the next table, “here take these.” Handing Merlin a darts wallet, he looked over to his left, “Don’t mind do you Lancelot?”

The guy shrugged, “Use away.”

Bright blue eyes burned into Arthur.

“Your’s are too light, you need heavier ones.” 

The burning continued.

“Um…” For once Arthur stumbled on his words, “…yeah…steadier flight…shouldn’t, you know…just…yeah…better.”

_Idiot._

“Oh! Thanks.” And he was rewarded with a smile which lit the room.

“Bless.” The Irish twang unmistakable.

Making his way to destiny Merlin heard the low rumble as it slowly build, like a summer storm the electricity bounced around the pub, 

“Bambi…Bambi…Bambi…Bambi…Bambi…”

By the time he was in position the noise was so loud it filled every nook and cranny.

Then silence.

“Jesus Christ! He’s bloody got one in!” Gefforey sounded like he’d die of shock if someone didn’t calm him down soon.

“That’s it Bambi, time to find those feet.” 

“Hold it steady.”

“Focus Bambi.”

The cries of the older men echoing most of the teams thought’s.

“Give me something.” Prayed Arthur. Ok he’d managed to get one on target but a two gave them nothing, there was no checkout from one hundred and seventy three. 

This time Arthur couldn’t bear to look but even with his head buried in his arms he couldn’t filter out that familiar thud.

One more.

Days could have passed and Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised, he’d heard of time standing still but this was ridiculous. Impatient as ever he lifted his mop of hair to see what was taking so long and as he did he saw the shining dart implant itself.

**Eighteen!**

Merlin was mobbed.

Arthur, dignified, remained seated and when the gang finally came back he looked at the other lad and simply said,

“One five five, at least there’s a check out in that.”

Merlin growled.

“Arthur.” Gaius’s voice scalded.

“He got his first darts in! Bambi scored us twenty.” Tom slapped Merlin on the back for the millionth time, elated for the young boy.

“The least you could do is say well done.” His mate Lancelot seemed put out by Arthur’s failings.

“We haven’t won yet.” 

The other team only required a double ten, no point in getting hopes up.

“No.” Lancelot grasped Arthur’s shoulders and bent down to whisper in his ear, “But occasionally it is nice to recognise personal achievement, rather than always be focused on the end goal. I would have thought you of all people would realise that.” Lancelot moved away pointedly refusing to sit in the spare seat beside his friend.

“Well done Bambi.”

Merlin’s face softened.

As the second Glein Tavern’s pairs player threw his first dart you could hear a pin drop.

“Bust!” A cry so loud Arthur was nearly deafened.

“He’s bust!” Repeated Percy, stating the bloody obvious. “Double fifteen, it’s too much.”

A stunned silence has settled, everyone seemingly incapable of speech. 

Apart from Percy. Good, old, dependable Percy.

“He got thirty. They didn’t need thirty, they needed twenty!”

Gwaine clapped his hand across the man mountains mouth. “We know.”

The bigger guy wrestled himself free, “Then why aren’t we all going nuts?” 

“The man has a point.”

And for the second time that night The Knights of the Round Table let loose.

Arthur found himself once more with his toe planted against the oche, in all honesty he’d not expected to be back, but he could do it, he felt it as the blood coursed round his body. The crowd wanton with anticipation.

Adopting his battle position Arthur closed his eyes and used his sense of touch, between his fingers he felt his darts, the subtle curves in the barrels, the smoothness of the stems, he let them weigh gentle in his palms and grinned. These darts were an extension of him and as he reopened his eyes he pictured them soaring through the air until they found their target.

It was as easy as that.

Exquisite in his execution, Arthur hit the treble twenty, treble nineteen and without pausing for breath released his third arrow slap bang in the middle of double nineteen.


End file.
